


The Sweetest Devotion

by misstriplem



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, F/M, Papa Arthur Morgan, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misstriplem/pseuds/misstriplem
Summary: Arthur starts to believe that his worthy of a second chance at life--and, more importantly, at being a father.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Clara Howard, Arthur Morgan & Original Character(s), Arthur Morgan & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	The Sweetest Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This features my OC, Clara Howard, as featured my masterwork, The Outlaw and the Outlier.

There were only three things in Arthur Morgan’s life that had ever held the power to change his life. 

The first was his son, Isaac. Arthur had been terrified to be a father. He supposed he never really was, not in the way he should have been, but he loved Isaac. He loved him, and still did, and despite the pain that inevitably followed, Arthur still cherished every memory he had of his son.

The second was his wife. When they’d first met, Arthur had firmly believed himself incapable of love. His heart had been in tatters, destroyed by the grief that preceded Clara’s arrival. Somehow, Clara had pieced him back together. They’d saved each other in more ways than one, and Arthur knew he’d forever be grateful that she’d stumbled into his life.

The third was his daughter. Rhiannon—Annie—Morgan had shifted his world on its axis. Colors seemed brighter, music sounded sweeter, and all the bad that Arthur had done in his life had faded away with the first sounds of her cries. She was beautiful like her mother, and Arthur knew one thing was true the moment she was born.

It was simple, really: There was nothing Arthur would not do for his daughter. If it was a choice of doing every horrible deed he’d done in his life twice over to ensure Annie’s safety, he’d do it without question.

Arthur sat back in the chair and settled Annie in the crook of his arm. Clara had gone to sleep nearly two hours ago; she’d needed it, though Arthur was certain she’d be furious with him for not waking her sooner.

Besides, he reasoned, it gave him time with Annie.

The fire crackled in the hearth. He looked down at the bundle nestled against his chest. Annie shifted slightly in her sleep and pressed her pink, cherub cheek to her father’s chest. Her tiny hand crept out of the blanket in which she’d been wrapped and wound firmly in the fabric of Arthur’s shirt.

His heart swelled. For a moment, he could think of little else but how much he wanted this moment to last. He reached out a tentative finger and brushed it against the exquisitely soft skin of her cheek.

The baby sighed in contentment.

“My girl,” he whispered. Arthur felt a smile—a true, uninhibited smile—creep on his lips. “Ain’t you just the sweetest.”

Nothing—not the rising sun, snow-capped mountains, or promise of hard-won freedom—was enough to rival the feeling of holding his daughter in his arms.

Sometimes he thought of Isaac when he was alone with Annie. He’d missed so much with him. Even with a wife and a newborn, Isaac was never too far from Arthur’s thoughts. He’d made a promise the day Annie was born: he’d do everything right by her in order to properly honor Isaac’s memory.

It would never be enough, but Arthur hoped it was a start.

Annie let out a short, soft cough. He glanced sharply down at her and, finding her well, settled once more against the back of the chair. Tufts of brown hair sprouted from her head and Arthur smoothed them gently with his palm. Arthur saw Clara in nearly every aspect of Annie’s features: the curve of her mouth, the slope of her nose, and the proud jut of her chin were nearly a mirror to his wife’s.

It was only in her eyes that Arthur saw his own mirrored.

Sometimes it terrified him. He prayed that she would never see even a fraction of the things he’d seen.

The baby wound her little fingers tighter through his shirt. Arthur brushed his thumb across her tiny arm.

He knew from the moment she was born that not a day would go by when he wouldn’t want to hold his little girl his arms. Despite feeling unequal to the task when Clara had placed her tiny form in his hulking, rough-hewn arms, Arthur knew no greater joy than this. The world could be set afire and none of it would matter, as long as he held Annie close.

After all, this was the second chance he’d been given, though he knew he was entirely undeserving.

Arthur felt a hand land on his shoulder.

He turned and smiled up at his wife.

Clara was still bleary eyed from sleep. She’d dismantled her braid, instead choosing to leave her long tresses unbound. Clara smiled sweetly at him before her eyes dipped to the sleeping bundle tucked in his arms.

“You should’ve woken me up,” she murmured.

Arthur shook his head. “Nah. She’s only sleeping, anyhow.” He grinned up at his wife and added, “Bit like you, I suppose.”

Clara rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. She did the same to Annie, moving slowly and with care to avoid waking the slumbering babe.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned her head against his. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ever felt anything but love for the two most important women in his life. All the fear, doubt, and hatred that had moored him into the life of an outlaw felt so far away in moments like this.

Annie squirmed a bit and let out a soft, half-formed cry. Arthur began to bounce her gently in his arms while stroking the length of her little arm.

“No need to fuss, now, sweetheart,” he said. “Daddy’s got you.”

Clara chuckled softly in his ear. “I think she’s got you, Arthur.”

He didn’t disagree with her.


End file.
